


Silver Linings

by countingpaperstars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Concerts, Crushes, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Punk!Prompto, Sexual Content, Singer!Prompto, Sneaking Out, band au, second chapter is rated E, slight mirror sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingpaperstars/pseuds/countingpaperstars
Summary: The drums drop in in a roll before falling back to the kick and pounding out a rhythm he knows so well it may as well be his own heartbeat. The lights flare on and there he is, standing right before them in person, and singing out the opening lyrics Noctis has etched across his soul.Prince Noctis sneaks out of the citadel for the chance to see his favorite band live, along with their charismatic frontman, and things go perfectly, right up until they don't.





	1. (Coffee's For Closers)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emsandman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsandman/gifts).



> This fic is a birthday present for the one and only pigeon-princess!!! It was on the 2nd, so I'm a bit late OTL, but it's still her birthweek and there's time to go [send her a very nice belated birthday wish!!!!](http://pigeon-princess.tumblr.com/ask) This idea was all hers, I just took detailed notes on her rambles and brought them to life as a surprise <3 Big thank you to her for being so amazing ;; I'm so lucky to have this friendship in my life. Happy birthday Em!!
> 
> Songs in this fic are inspired by Black Sheep by The Clash at Demonhead and Silver by Waterparks. I highly recommend listening to them ~~and imagining Prompto singing his heart out.~~ Chapter title song is by Fall Out Boy, surprise surprise.
> 
> Enjoy~

The woman sitting across from Noctis is eyeing him, holding her grocery bag close in her arms and peering between the leafy stalks sticking out of it with a scrunched expression like she’s trying to figure out where she’s seen him before so he pulls his hat further over his face and angles back towards the window. The dark metro tunnels are void of anything beyond the reflection in the windows, but it hides his face more from the other passengers. He jumps when the car makes a screeching noise, inertia pulling him towards the window as the tracks veer slightly left before the driver hits the breaks, slowing the train down to the next stop. More people crowd on and press into the empty spaces, blocking the woman’s line of sight which is a relief. 

Public transportation is a new experience for him and although the vast interlocking system is intimidating, the maps are straightforward enough to figure out where he needs to go. It’s packed this time of day, but no one else spares a second glance where he’s huddled up in the seat he’s locked down. It’s liberating to know they think of him as another teen up to no good on a Friday night. He’s got a ways to go, having switched over to the blue line a few stops back, so he slouches further in his seat and turns up the volume on his headphones, staring out at the void of black enveloping them as they pull away from the station platform once again.

He closes his eyes as the guitar riff kicks in, followed closely by a lilting voice so familiar at this point Noctis would know who it was if he heard the song playing from two rooms over. The anticipation is steadily building, has been since he’d made his decision to come, and he checks the time on his phone with a frown. He’s no doubt missed the openers by this point, no thanks to Ignis’ watchful eye, but hopefully he should be in time for the main act. They’re all he cares about anyways and Noctis is going to see them live tonight, no matter what Ignis said.

_“Absolutely not.”_

_Noctis pouts. “Aw, c’mon Iggy, please? Just this once? I’ll never ask for anything ever again.”_

_Across Noctis’ rooms on the couch, Gladio snorts. “Well, we all know that’s a lie.”_

_“Where is it again? Ifrit’s Den?” asks Ignis in his tone where he already knows the answer and is only asking to make a point. “Noctis, it’s no place for a prince.”_

_“Gladio can come and protect me. It’s his job anyways,” says Noctis._

_Sliding further down into the cushions, Gladio snorts again. “No thanks, I hear enough of that band through you.”_

_“You’ll know all the words!” says Noctis in a last ditch effort. “See Iggy, it’s perfect!”_

_“And what if you’re spotted? It’ll disrupt the band’s performance and we’ll have real trouble on our hands,” says Ignis and resumes preparing dinner. After a pause, he sighs. “I’m sorry Noctis but it’s a no, it’s too risky. You have more important things to be worrying about and you can always listen to them online.”_

Noctis clenches his hands and breathes in through his nose. He knows all they want it to watch out for him, and usually he appreciates it, but listening to Silver Linings online is _not_ the same as getting the chance to see them live in the _slightest_. Despite what they think, he can be discreet if he needs to. Hell, he’s already gotten this far in the city without being spotted. Besides, he’s already watched every existing music video and interview out there enough to have most of them memorized. He needs to do this.

“I sing because it makes me happy, you know?” Prompto had said in one, he'd worn a red shirt, hair styled up with his bright blue eyes ringed in charcoal. "If I happen to connect with and help others along the way, that’s amazing. There's someone out there who needs to hear these songs and we’ll be right here to provide.” 

Thinking of it brings an involuntary smile to Noctis' face, always drawn in by Prompto’s disarming smile and sweet voice. He can’t help but feel like… like these songs are meant for him. He’s never felt this connected to someone he’s never met, never felt like this about anyone he _has_ met either. It’s almost as if Prompto understands all about high expectations and about not feeling good enough; about feeling loneliness and pressure so strong and heavy it's sometimes hard to get out of bed at all; about how he’ll never be good enough for the role he was expected to assume. Or maybe Noctis is projecting again. Whatever. Instead of thinking about it too long, he slouches in his seat more and cranks up their newest album, desperately wishing he were the teen everyone here believes he is. 

Sneaking out of the citadel had been a lot easier than he thought it would be. All the passages crossing through the citadel, meant for the ease and secrecy of the staff, were quiet at night and the few patrolling guards had been easy enough to slip by. The gate around the building had been a harder challenge to face, but Noctis had been able to warp up and over it though he got a little sick afterwards and had to pause in a nearby alley with his back against the wall to avoid passing out. He’d be more worried about the lacking security, but it’s been arranged to keep others _out,_ not keep him _in_. Though after tonight he’s sure that’ll be subject to change if he gets caught, which makes this even more of a last-ditch effort. Walking to the nearest metro station had taken a while, as the closest one is outside the upper levels of Insomnia and near the financial district below it, but it was all worth it, if only to forget and lose himself for a night.

Over his loud music he hears the metro speaker crackle to life for an announcement and he slips an earbud out to listen to the name of the upcoming station. It’s his stop, so he stands from his seat in preparation to leave, holding tight to the railings to steady his feet in the swaying car. When the doors open, he does his best to follow the flow of the crowd headed to the underbelly of the party scene for drinks and dancing, managing to swipe his brand new metro card correctly on the first try. 

It’s fresh outside the stuffy station, warm and tepid with a gentle breeze carrying the sizzling smell from a nearby food stall, and Noctis stands off to the side to revel in his newfound freedom. Briefly he wishes he could remove his sweatshirt, but he has to maintain his anonymity and resigns to pushing up the sleeves. The bars along the street are crawling with patrons already, bright neon lights cutting through the dusk and laughter ringing out over the chatter. There’s a lot more people than he’s used to and he shifts uneasily as he scans the map hastily pulled up on his phone, trying his best to count all the turns he’ll have to take. Navigating the crowd of tipsy bar crawlers is a new challenge as well, especially when he's briefly trapped in the midst of a large bachelorette party.

When he manages to find the right club, his nerves kick up another notch, adrenaline thrumming into overdrive. It’s set back from the main street, the outside seedy and grimy, but when he double checks the sign overhead, it’s definitely the right one. Gathering up that particular brand of courage only perceived teenage immortality seems to provide, he heads over to the guy who's standing at the door with his arms crossed and flexing some truly impressive muscles. Which is saying something because Noctis sees Gladio’s on a regular basis.

“ID?” he asks, voice gruff, and Noctis scrambles to dig out his card and pass it over with a shaky hand. 

He’s not old enough and it’s shows in the roundness of his cheeks, but when the guy opens his mouth to say so, he does a double take and stares disbelievingly first at the official Crown ID, then up at Noctis who watches from under the brim of his cap. It’s a miracle he doesn’t immediately get laughed away for a blatant forgery, but when the guy shines his light over the official markings, everything checks out. Noctis presses a finger to his lips and holds out a hand for a shake like he'd practiced and the guy wordlessly accepts the fold of bills pressed into his hand before waving him through the door. Noctis ducks in, heart still in his throat, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the change in light.

Inside isn’t much brighter, which works in his favor. No one looks twice as he weaves through the patrons lined up at the bar for a drink and to the back where the crowd is gathered around the stage. It’s a modestly sized venue, spaced enough for some elbow room when he sidles up to the back of the scattered audience. Two metal staircases curve up and back on either side of the room, leading up to a railing with stools overlooking the stage and crowd, already taken by a few restless parents and patrons less fond of the pit. Roadies are already breaking down the second opener’s things, wrapping up cords around their forearms and carting away instruments to be packed before setting up the new ones. A small cheer rises up when the band’s drum settles into place, their name emblazoned across the kick drum in silver paint, and everyone presses closer.

It’s stupid hot in the crowd; people are returning from the bar with their drinks in hand and more are coming back in from their cigarette breaks smelling strongly of smoke. Someone jostles Noctis and he tries to calm his heartbeat. It’s a lot, being pushed up against this many strangers, and sweat sticks at the small of his back and curl the ends of his hair. Throwing caution to the wind in favor of not suffocating, he takes off his hoodie and ties it around his waist and pulls the hat lower. He must still blend in enough because no one stares. 

Knees growing stiff, he’s wondering how long he’ll be standing there when the house lights go out and a cheer rises up over the crowd as people push forward in their eagerness. The panic surges in his chest and he desperately wishes Gladio were there to take some space, but he deals with it best he can, tilting his head back to suck in a deep breath of the cooler air over everyone’s heads. Back on the stage there are figures are moving around in the dark, getting into position, and his heart beats wildly in his chest for an entirely different reason.

Already the tension is thick, cut cleanly by the thick roll of the baseline. It vibrates through the air, rolling up Noctis’ spine and settling deep under his skin as the guitar riff follows along. The drums drop in in a roll before falling back to the kick and pounding out a rhythm he knows so well it may as well be his own heartbeat. The lights flare on and there he is, standing right before them in person, and singing out the opening lyrics Noctis has etched across his soul.

He’s glowing under the stage lights, blonde hair bright and bouncing as he strides across the stage in black jeans practically glued on. He moves like silk, flowing across the stage so fluidly Noctis is afraid to blink and miss a thing. The crowd is dancing along to the chorus and he struggles to keep his eyes enough above the people ahead of him to see. An elbow knocks his hat off but he barely notices, too caught up in how good Prompto’s collar bones peeking out from under his tank top and lingering around the strip of skin from where it’s riding up. When the opening song draws to a close, the crowd stops moving enough for him to find his footing again.

“Good night Insomnia! How are you doing tonight?” says Prompto into the microphone, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, bracelets all jangling together around the narrow of his wrists. The crowd screams in response and he smirks, sending Noctis’ heart melting rapidly into a puddle. He almost can’t believe it – that Prompto is here and real and right in front of his own eyes after all this time of being separated by his computer screen. 

They launch into another song, Prompto racing across the stage to sing into the pit, standing up on an amp to jump at the end of the bridge. At some point, the push and pull lands Noctis right at the front, pressed up against the barricade as he stares straight up at Prompto. He’s never seen anything like him; stunning as he tips his head back, the long line of his throat tensing as he pours his heart out with such honestly it pulls at the ragged edges of the hidden pieces of himself Noctis actively tries to shove down. He doesn’t this time, allows him to be vulnerable for once in this anonymous crowd, and though he’s embarrassed at the ache in his chest, no one notices when a tear or two joins the sweat beading at his hairline. 

Prompto's racing around again when their eyes meet and he trips over his words before smoothing right over it and into the next verse. Noctis is almost sure he imagined the anak-caught-in-headlights look that had flickered over his face, but Prompto’s eyes don’t leave his as he keeps on singing, a slow smile unfurling over his lips. He winks and Noctis nearly melts right into the ground, cheeks burn brightly and aching with how widely he’s grinning. It’s the happiest moment of his life. Ignis was wrong; everything about this was worth it, if only for this brief connection between them.

Of course, that’s when everything goes to shit.

“Is that Prince Noctis?!” a girl near him shrieks and he immediately hunches down, reaching up to pull his hat down only to remember it’s long gone under the trampling feet. The crowd is tittering now, a ripple of his name among the audience steadily rising over the song the band is playing. 

Noctis needed to leave five minutes ago. He tries to make his way out, but he’s locked in with nowhere to go but against the barrier and people are definitely staring now. Someone reaches out to grab him by the back of the shirt and he flinches at the unsolicited touch, wishing desperately that a guard were there with him to throw them off. It feels like one of the awful press conferences he has to attend, flashes going off everywhere as people pivot their phones from the band to record him struggling, and the lights sears into his brain behind his eyelids and oh gods Ignis was right and now he’s going to die here in the pit, trampled by his own people because he’d been too desperate to smother out his silly infatuation.

The band stops, feedback squealing out loud and everyone ducks their heads, hands pressed to their ears. It’s distraction enough and the bass player appears, tall and imposing as she hauls him up onto stage with one hand. Dazed by the mayhem, he barely notices as she passes him off to someone else who quickly ushers him out of view into one of the side wings before pulling back to give him some space. He’s gasping and trembling from the adrenaline and panic, staring hard at the glowing mark tape peeling on the ground. 

Someone’s hand is repeatedly running down his back and he presses into the grounding touch. “Are you alright?” they ask and Noctis finishes pulling himself together only to look up and nearly break down all over again. It’s _him,_ right there with a hand stretched out to keep him steady. 

This close he could count all the freckles on Prompto’s face if he wanted to, his eyeliner smudged from the heat, and Noctis feels his soul leave his body. He stammers out a bunch of random syllables and knows he’s not making any sense, but it seems every single word in any human language has slipped right out of his brain. Prompto gives him an amused smile, but it’s not unkind and Noctis straightens up rigidly, flushing bright red. He’s surprised to find they’re around the same height, Prompto glistening and beautiful from the glint of the stage lights.

“What the fuck were you thinking, kid? You just ruined our gig!” says the bass player who pulled him out of the crowd – Aranea he remembers, from all the interviews. She’s intimidatingly tall in her heeled boots, silver hair pulled up in an assortment of ponytails, and Noctis ducks his head sheepishly under the steely gaze of her eyes. He knows about the other band members of course, but they dim in comparison to Prompto, who smacks her lightly on the arm.

“It’s fine, really. C’mon, you need to sit down.” He swings his arm around Noctis’ shoulders and leads him down a short hall and into another room. 

Noctis’ knees nearly buckle under the casual touch, but he manages to make it to the room and over to where Prompto pushes him onto the plush couch. He sinks into it, the material folding beneath his weight, and he looks about the room in disbelief as Prompto perches onto the armrest next to him. There’s a couch, a table piled high with snacks and water bottles, and a few mirrors above a long counter covered in bags of makeup and seats stacked with garment bags. Aranea follows them, murder in her eyes as she slouches down onto a couch with a sigh and picks up an open beer bottle from the low table in front of it. 

They're soon joined by the drummer Cindy, a cheerful girl with short blonde curls, comes in and makes a beeline to the snack bar. “Whew! Seems like word got out ‘cause the outside is flooded with paparazzo.” She grins and says, “You’re quite the popular guy aren’t you, Your Highness. Looks like you’ll be here a while.”

The ashamed feeling flares in earnest. Paparazzi already? Noctis groans and drops his head into his hand. “Ignis is gonna kill me.”

“Not if I do first,” says the guitarist, swinging through the door hautily with his nose in the air and Noctis somehow manages to sink lower into his seat as Prompto levels an equal glare right back. Noctis doesn’t know him as well as the others, only of his immeasurable talent for writing riffs to compliment Prompto’s catchy melodies.

“Loqi chill out,” says Prompto and said receives a huff in return.

“You’re all welcome to hide out here, but I for one am going for a drink,” he says and gathers up his jacket in frustration and stomps down the hall. Noctis’ mouth pinches. He feels horrible despite Prompto’s reassurances, especially since this is exactly what Ignis had said would happen. He never dreamed he’d meet his favorite band and half of them would hate him.

The others move to follow, Aranea with a final searching glance sent his way and a bright goodbye from Cindy, all except for Prompto who bumps his shoulder into Noctis’ and joins him on the couch, slipping down the arm to wedge in-between Noctis and the edge. “I’ll keep his royal highness company while we wait,” he says, and then they’re alone.

“So…” says Prompto, but Noctis is still starstruck, frozen and trying hard not to move too much with Prompto pressed right up against his side with a teasing smile. “I didn’t know _Prince Noctis_ was such a fan of our music.”

The comment pulls another blush to Noctis’ cheeks, as much as he wishes it wouldn’t. “Errr, yeah,” he says eloquently, shrugging before quietly admitting, “I love your lyrics a lot.”

It render Prompto properly speechless before he’s grinning in full force and readjusts to lean back against the arm of the couch, his legs crisscrossed between them, open and excited as he props his chin up on his hand. “Really? What’s your favorite?”

“Mmmm,” hums Noctis, rummaging around in his mind. It’s a hard question when what he wants to answer _all_ of them, but he holds up his hand and lists off a handful of the songs. He counts all the way up to his pinky before he says, “Oh, but my favorite is that bridge in Duscae Wanderlust, you know? That little part that goes,” and he breaks into it, softly singing the notes of the guitar riff before launching into the first couple lines of the song’s bridge. It’s the longing in it that catches him in the chest like always, a desperate wistfulness for something _more._

He trails off awkwardly when he realizes Prompto is staring at him. “But yeah, I think it’s… admirable, you know? Everything you do. You really care about the fans and whatnot.” He trails off, picking at a thread on the cushion next to him.

Prompto shakes out of his reverie enough to say, “Wow, I didn’t know you could sing like that.”

“I can’t though?” says Noctis, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. He knows he’s not _terrible,_ can hold a tune well enough so no one complains when he sings along to things, but he’s nothing special in the talent department. Not like Prompto is.

“Nah, trust me, I’m a professional,” says Prompto with an exaggerated sagely nod. “You’re a natural. Don’t suppose we can do a collab sometime, hmm?”

Noctis snorts and falls into the easy banter. “What, and steal away all your fans?”

“Heyyy,” laughs Prompto, playfully punching Noctis in the arm. It burns, but more from the brush of contact than the hit itself. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone who said they couldn’t sing.”

Their laughter peters off into silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable this time, more settled than anything, and Noctis sinks further into the couch. “I’m sorry,” he says, “for ruining the concert. I just, really wanted to see you?”

There’s another beat of silence before Prompto responds. “This is kind of awkward but,” he stops and Noctis waits for him collect his words. “I wrote a song about you, once.”

It’s definitely not what Noctis was expecting, doesn’t address his apology at all, and he tries to process the fact that Prompto knows him beyond the usual casual acknowledgment of ‘oh hey Insomnia has a prince’. He wrote him a _song_ and Prompto won’t look at him, too busy twisting the bracelets adorning his wrists. The words stick in his throat and Prompto must take his silence as a bad sign because he stammers onward.

“We went to school together, before they took you out, after the accident,” he says and Noctis winces at the onslaught of memories, but he sifts past them until he vaguely remembers a young blonde boy who sat in the corner desk with his pocket camera. It’s grown faint and distant with time, but the similarities between the two are there.

When Prompto finally peers up at Noctis from under his lashes, it wrenches another nostalgic pang from between his ribs to make room for his pounding heartbeat. It’s beyond anything he’s ever dreamed and if he’d have been told all this yesterday he wouldn’t have believed it for one second. It’s nearly too good to be true, but the skin Prompto’s knees poking out in the tears of his jeans are warm where they’re pressed against his leg, so he knows he isn’t dreaming. 

He still hasn’t said anything, tongue all done up in knots, but Prompto shifts nervously again so Noctis forces his mouth to move. “I remember you,” he says and it’s Prompto’s eyebrows shoot up. “You sat in the back all the time and took pictures. You came up to me once, but never again.”

“I was embarrassed,” says Prompto, smile sad at the ends. “I wanted to be your friend so badly, but I… missed my chance. I’d always wondered what would’ve happened if I’d been brave.”

“Better late than never, right?” asks Noctis, nudging his leg into Prompto’s knees gently. It brings his smile back up to its usual brilliancy, blinding as the stage lights. Still shaken from the rollercoaster of his night, Noctis leans his head back against the couch and stares up at a stain on the popcorn ceiling. “So… which one’s about me?”

He rolls his head against the couch to watch Prompto burst into a red blush, the color stark against his fair skin as he stutters. Noctis laughs and folds easily when Prompto puts a hand on his face and pushes him away playfully. It’s the most familiar he’s ever been with someone other than Ignis or Gladio and it’s like breaking out from under the crushing waves for a breath of fresh air. Some part of him is still screaming - this is his idol after all - but Prompto’s a regular person too, and Noctis wants so badly to get to know this side of him. They tussle back and forth before settling down again, breathless in their laughter.

“Guess you’ll have to figure it out yourself,” he says and Noctis sighs, loud and dramatic for effect. Still giggling, Prompto pulls out his phone and wiggles it. “Hey, you play King’s Knight at all?”

Noctis nods, unwilling to let on to how he’d already known it was one of their shared interests. He winces internally at the imbalance between their knowledge of each other. It could be leveled easily enough if Prompto Moogles him later, but for now, he grins and pulls out his own phone. There are several angry messages from Ignis and Gladio alike, but he skips down to the last one, a short and simple “Don’t move, on my way.” 

It’s easier to get lost in the grind of leveling up with two people and they quickly manage to take down a couple dungeons Noctis hasn’t been able to get past before. They make a good team, easily bouncing off each others’ strengths and covering their weaknesses. The banter flows easily between them and soon enough he loses track of how long they spend playing the game together. Time in the rooms seems infinite, and honestly if that were the case he’d be more than happy to spend forever right here, but unfortunately it’s not meant to be. He locks his phone when he hears voices outside the door and recognizes the subtly irritated tone of Ignis in the hall before he opens the door, Gladio hot on his heels.

“There you are,” says Ignis, tone all wonky with relief, and Noctis sits up abruptly. The guilt is back, sinking low in his gut at how harried both of them are. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I’m sorry, Specs,” he says, standing up to move closer. “You were right.” It pains him to say. His plan had gone perfectly up until the last second and it was incredibly frustrating to have made it so far to lose it all. 

He doesn’t block it when Gladio whacks him gently upside the head. “Damn straight he was, brat. What were you thinking?” he asks, but he sounds more relieved than angry as he casts a wary glance about the room. Noctis shrugs morosely.

“This is going to be a publicity mess in the morning,” says Ignis before directing his attention towards Prompto. “Apologies for the inconvenience Noctis caused. Is there anything we could do to repay you for watching out for him?”

“Nah,” says Prompto, rocking on his heels when he stands, hands in his pockets. “Maybe help reschedule a night for this venue? I know the fans are disappointed, but other than that, it’s fine. Me ‘n Noctis are real buddies now, aren’t we?”

The question burns something bright in Noctis’ chest. It’s playful, but there's hesitation in Prompto’s gaze and a question in his words, so he smiles reassuringly and says, “Yeah, we are.”

Gladio rolls his eyes at their lingering goodbyes, but averts his eyes when Prompto hands his phone over to Noctis. “Uhm, is it okay if we exchange numbers? So we can… talk and stuff.”

“Sure,” says Noctis, still in complete disbelief as he types the digits into his phone. Out of the corner of his eye Ignis is watching the exchange worriedly, but he doesn’t protest, probably already planning the necessary background checks to be initiated before they even leave the bar which is fine, as long as he and Prompto can keep talking. He sends himself a text and hands the phone back, taking Prompto’s hands in his when he does. Their eyes meet and he tries his best not to melt. 

“Next time, we’ll get you a better place to stand,” says Prompto with a laugh, Noctis smiling shyly in return, and when they squeeze their hands together it feels like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! If you liked it at all, feel free to tell me your favorite parts down below <33 and stay tuned for a rather steamy epilogue~


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _By the time the song ends, lights dropping to pitch black in the wake of the last note, he’s swaying where he stands and almost topples over when Prompto launches into his arms to smear a kiss across the rise of his cheek._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da~ A fresh epilogue with a side of heat for your reading pleasure and a happy extended birthday to pigeon-princess!! I couldn't find a song with the sound I wanted and lyrics that _fit_ but if you're curious I always imagined it as a blend of 21 Questions by Waterparks and If I'm Lucky by State Champs!
> 
> Enjoy~

It’s weird viewing the stage from this angle, as if Noctis is peeking at a sliver of another world entirely. Not only can he watch the band perform up close and personal, but if he stands in exactly the right place in the shadows he can watch the audience too as they dance and sing along in their excitement. From here, he sees what Prompto sees.

The crowd is massive, packed in closely to the stage even though Silver Linings upgraded from the underbelly of the arts district to a bigger venue to accommodate the influx of fans. Noctis reaches up to adjust the earplugs a roadie had handed him in the chaotic rush of setting up onstage, grateful for how they muffle the cheers and squealing feedback of the instruments, but none of the music. It’s as if the songs vibrating through his being like a private concert solely for him and he smiles hard enough for his jaw to ache, fidgeting with the glossy backstage pass looped around his neck.

“I suppose we should thank you,” Aranea said to him at a socialite get-together a few months back. 

It had been a refreshing change of place from the events at the citadel, with Noctis tagging along with Prompto as his plus one instead of being the center of attention. He leaned against the bar and smiled as he watched Prompto animatedly tell a story to a small group across the room. “What for?”

Aranea shrugged and said, “Never let it be said you didn’t give us good press at least,” before she patted him on the shoulder and bought them a round of shots.

She’s as devastatingly beautiful now as always, slamming out thick rolls of bass into the air with practiced ease, and Noctis wonders if she’s right. A few fans have been vocally unhappy about the band ‘selling out’ after a few photos of him and Prompto on some of their dates had been leaked to the press, much to Ignis’ eternal exasperation, but it feels a small dissonance compared to the sold out tickets before him.

“You and Prince Noctis, hmm?” an interviewer had asked after the fact, arching an eyebrow impressively high near his slicked, silver hair.

“We went to school together as kids,” said Prompto, smiling softly as he fiddled with his bracelets, “and I’m happy we’ve reconnected. His support means a lot to me.” It was clearly not the answer Dino had been fishing for, but Prompto redirected the interview back towards the topic of their new album with ease. 

“So what _is_ the deal with Insomnia’s favorite rising star and very own Prince Noctis?” prattled the gossip news station after the interview clip finished, rolling several photos of them standing close together across the screen. “The two have been spotted together in public multiple times, but other than an intimate lack of personal space nothing solid has been confirmed or denied in terms of a relationship.”

Noctis had switched it off as Prompto - his _boyfriend_ \- smothered laughter into the curve of his shoulder.

It was surprisingly easy to find their footing after all these years, falling into familiar banter and playful affection, and it hadn’t taken much for their arcade outings and laughter to slowly devolve into a mess of shy touches and late night talks cuddled up on Noctis’ couch.

When it sparked into something more - a tentative brush of lips one night that quickly devolved into a messy frantic slide - they’d decided to let the tabloids speculate all they wanted as the budding romance grew between them and them alone, first and foremost.

Onstage, Prompto is a star as he bounces from one end to the other, reaching into the crowd and singing his heart out as hard as they night they officially met. The piercings lined along his ears glint in the color changes, hair and skin shining gold, and the space where his shirt rides up draws Noctis’ eyes over and over.

During a transition between two of the songs he glances over to the wings, to _Noctis,_ and flashes a brilliant grin as the lights dim to a sole spotlight. The rest of the band retreats from the shadows to the wings, Loqi throwing back a bottle of water as Cindy towels off the back of her neck and the smirk Aranea gives Noctis makes the heat rise to his cheeks.

“I wrote this song a long time ago for someone special,” says Prompto, accepting an acoustic guitar from a roadie and tweaking the tuning pegs. “It’s called If I’m Lucky.”

Already the audience is pulling out phones and lighters alike, flicking them on in a sea of lanterns which ripples in the dark as they cheer. It’s a top favorite, a classic off their first EP, but Noctis frowns at the introduction, confused and unsure. Prompto’s never mentioned having written it for anyone before.

It clicks into place when Prompto shoots another secretive smile his direction before launching into the first verse and Noctis blushes hard enough that he’s sure it’s visible even in the near pitch dark. He toes at the loose edge of glowing tape stuck to the stage and barely stops his damn heart from melting right out of his chest as he listens to the lyrics of _his_ song. As the bridge approaches, the others slip back onstage to take up position - drums kicking in as it builds into the last chorus with the staccato of Noctis’ heartbeat, and Prompto’s voice drips with so much emotion he feels drowned and swept away by it. 

By the time the song ends, lights dropping to pitch black in the wake of the last note, he’s swaying where he stands and almost topples over when Prompto launches into his arms to smear a kiss across the rise of his cheek.

He’s a blazing inferno, skin tacky with sweat as Noctis reaches up to wrap his arms around him tightly, catching Prompto’s lips with his own. It’s messy and careless - a rolling push and pull as Noctis’ pounding heart fills his ears, its answer reverberating beneath Prompto’s chest. Right as he’s afraid he may actually burst with emotion, Prompto pulls away with a brilliant grin to press another kiss to his cheek before rushing away.

A dazed cloud hangs over Noctis as they play the final encore songs, the heady rush humming under his skin like an exposed livewire. It spikes when the lights darken for good and Prompto snags his hand, hurrying them down the hall in such a rush that Noctis forgets to pay attention to any of the corners they take.

When they barrel into a room Noctis pauses to catch his breath, hardly noticing as the door clicks shut behind them. He’s shoved onto the small couch, bouncing in the cushions before he has a lap full of Prompto’s firm weight.

“Wha-”

Prompto grinds down, effectively cutting Noctis off as he groans, hands flying up to dig into that tantalizing sliver of skin above his hips. His head falls back against the couch, eyes wide as he stares up at Prompto’s self-satisfied grin. “What about the others?”

“They won’t bother us,” says Prompto, leaning down to smear a line of kisses along the edge of Noctis’ jaw to whisper in his ear. “I get my own dressing room now, _if_ I ask nicely.” He exhales against the slick skin he’s left behind and Noctis shivers.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he says eloquently, and slouches down to get more leverage to roll his hips back up into Prompto’s. Their lips are drawn together like magnets, the slick sounds of their kissing loud in the empty room before Prompto pulls back to scramble at Noctis’ shirt. 

“Off, off,” he demands, nearly hitting Noctis in the face with his elbow as they work the offending clothing off, and throws it randomly behind him - Noctis doesn’t care where it lands, too focused on the hickey Prompto’s sucking low on his collarbones.

Sitting up to admire his work, Prompto traces over it with black painted nails before scraping them down Noctis’ chest and pulling out another groan as his cock throbs painfully in his pants. He palms at Prompto’s ass, delighting in the way he arches into the touch with his head thrown back. Even in the flat fluorescent lights of the dressing room he’s stunning - sweat shining along his temples and eyeliner smudged dark and heavy while the flush across his cheeks works its way down the line of his throat. 

As they roll their hips together, Noctis goes for his studded belt, leaning up to nip at his neck as he thumbs the button open and shoves them down as far as they’ll go - which isn’t much considering they’re so tight they look painted on. Instead, he slides his hands down the curve of Prompto’s back as they kiss, down to the soft skin of his ass where he grips tight to pull him forward, but stops when his fingers dip, brushing against the flared base of smooth silicon.

Prompto watches him, eyes hazy and lips swollen, and Noctis’ surprise slips into a molten flare of arousal. He presses against the base gently and Prompto’s hands jerk roughly in his hair as he moans long and loud, eyes slamming shut as he rocks forward in possibly one of the hottest reactions Noctis has ever had the pleasure of evoking.

“The whole show?” he asks, voice wrecked as he continues to rub at the plug, trying not to lose it then and there when Prompto nods.

“Wanted to be ready.” He pulls away to struggle with the laces of a boot, casting it off even as he works his pants down his free leg before tumbling back into Noctis’ lap and tugging impatiently at his belt. “C’mon, hurry. I needed you in me three hours ago.”

The words only fuel the excitement tearing through Noctis’ veins and he grabs Prompto around the waist to press them chest to chest, reaching around to grip the end of the toy. He tugs gently to test the stretch and Prompto pants, harsh and ragged in his ear as his fingers shove between them to work his pants open.

Slumping forward at the first firm pull, his hair tickles Noctis’ neck when he asks, “You see the mirror?”

Noctis pauses, peering over a freckled shoulder to catch the glass set low over the vanity at the perfect angle to show where they’re sprawled out. He tugs at the plug again, unable to help the twitch of his cock as the pastel purple length slips out inch by inch, and Prompto makes a broken noise. By the time Prompto’s body gives around the bulge in the middle he’s managed to work the pants open and Noctis feels hazy with lust, the toy falling free as he lifts his hips for Prompto’s impatient fingers to shove them down far enough for his extremely interested cock to spring free.

“What should I-?” he asks, hand still gripping the plug as Prompto strokes him firmly, other hand digging between the cushions for a condom and bottle of lube. 

“Drop it, I’ll get it later.”

The plug falls from his fingers as Prompto ribs the condom packet open and quickly rolls the rubber down, lube clicking open as he rubs Noctis down with the cool slick. It takes some of the edge off, enough for him to realize, “You planned this all out didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” says Prompto, grinning playfully as he scoots back to settle properly in Noctis’ lap, hand reaching back to slick himself with fresh lube.

The mirror catches Noctis’ eye again and he takes in how much of a mess they are, half-dressed with Prompto’s pants half off, shirt shoved up to his ribs, and cock heavy between their navels as he lines Noctis’ up. The breath leaves his lungs as Prompto sinks down, all tight heat and pressure, and it’s hard to keep his eyes open enough to watch the stretch until they’re flush together, Prompto’s soft thighs rubbing against the rough texture of Noctis’ jeans.

They sit still, Noctis reveling in Prompto’s weight above him, surrounding him, and the reflection of their sloppy union. When he catches Noctis staring, Prompto rolls his hips and smirks at the way he throws his head back against the couch. 

“One day I want to fuck you against a mirror,” he says and Noctis clenches his jaw, the words combined with the slick heat between them on the verge of too much. “That way you can see all your pretty expressions.”

The touch of his fingers tracing over Noctis’ features feels more intimate than where they’re connected, the following kiss they share short and sweet, and Noctis can do little more than hold on when Prompto retreats, shifting his weight to lift up slowly. The drag is maddening, the inferno growing between their bodies as Noctis steadies him with hands on his hips.

Above him Prompto embodies every bit of the rock god he is, the light catching the tips of his hair like a halo as he sets a brisk pace. It feels like a parallel to that first night, his head thrown back like he does onstage when he hits those high notes Noctis loves so much, and he stares up at Prompto in captivated rapture.

When it gets to be too much, he spreads his legs for better leverage and pulls Prompto down hard to meet his hips, reveling in the sharp noise it evokes. It’s too loud, but Noctis can’t remember why that would be anything other than _hot_ \- his world narrowed to the thought of leaving bruises to peek out where Prompto’s shirts ride up for the fans to overanalyze during his next performance.

_“Prom.”_

“Yeah,” he sighs in answer, bracing his elbows on the back of the couch to bracket Noctis in as he lets him take over the pacing, thrusting hard and deep until Prompto’s crying out into his neck.

It’s hurried and sloppy, Noctis twisting a hand in Prompto’s hair to hold him still as he sneaks a hand between them to stroke his straining cock. It’s too hot, the heat from the dressing room lights beating down on them and Noctis is convinced he’s going to burn - that Prompto is every bit of a blazing star Insomnia paints him as and he’s fallen too close into his gravity - but then he’s coming with a choked noise, driving his hips harder as Prompto follows after, squeezing like a vice as he works them through it together.

The room goes quiet as they rest, tacky with lube and sweat as Prompto slumps against him and their chests rise and fall in tandem. It’s uncomfortable, but Noctis can’t find it in him to move when Prompto drops a sweet kiss to the dip of his collarbone. He should pull away - clean off his hand and tidy them up so Prompto can go and face his band and fans with whatever is next on his busy touring schedule - but instead he wraps an arm around his waist to stroke the marks already taking shape.

“There’s a gala,” he says and Prompto freezes in his arms. 

Noctis wants to hit himself. He absolutely did _not_ meant to bring this up here and now, but it’s in the open, so he clears his throat and bundles on. “In a few weeks. My publicist gave the okay if… well, if you wanted to come with me. As my date. Officially.”

When Prompto shifts back in his lap they both wince and Noctis averts his eyes. Sure, they’ve been going smooth and strong, but this will be a big step - one they can’t back out easily from. If something happens down the line it won’t only be them caught in the fallout, but Prompto’s fans, Noctis’ _country._

A hand caresses his cheek and he braces himself, but hope smothers his dregs of fear with the small smile on Prompto’s lips. It’s a quiet thing compared to his usual boisterous grins and Noctis tucks it away in his memories as he’s drawn into a tender kiss.

“It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know down below if you liked it <3
> 
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